


Discovery

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Back to Earth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based around <i>Back to Earth</i> timeline, but I don't mention Kris and this Rimmer didn't become Ace.</p><p>There were very few things to do in space when you’re dead. After the arguments, near-death experiences, viruses, laughter, GELFs, Simulants, time travel, parallel universes and Guess That Smell, there wasn’t much left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were very few things to do in space when you’re dead. After the arguments, near-death experiences, viruses, laughter, GELFs, Simulants, time travel, parallel universes and Guess That Smell, there wasn’t much left.

Well, that is, until Arnold realized he may possibly be leaning towards the off chance that he harbored what one might call the inklings of _feelings_ towards one Dave Lister. Not his otherwise normal feelings of disgust and annoyance, but _good_ feelings, the ones that made his stomach do loop-de-loops and caused his hologrammatic blood flow to redirect when his traitorous mind drifted into dangerous territory.

Dangerous territory usually presented itself at mid-day, right after Lister snorted awake. The snoring was still unbearable, but Rimmer had learned a thing or two about hard light holograms over the years. He could sleep in peaceful bliss with his hearing capacity down to 20%, oblivious of the logs being sawed in the bunk above him and yet still able to hear any alarms that _Red Dwarf_ may sound.

Lister’s snoring wasn’t the dangerous territory, though it had been known to cause mild ripples in the aquarium. No, it was when the snoring stopped that the dangerous territory made its appearance. Grumpy, half-awake Lister stumbled down the ladder each morning, his boxers leaving little to the imagination. Granted, Arnold’s imagination was somewhat stilted by childhood horrors, but he had a few memories to rely on. Years after he’d swapped his soft light hologram body for Lister’s real one, Rimmer could still feel the heft and girth of Lister’s endowment in the palm of his hand. He flushed at remembered guilt for using Lister’s body that way, but shivered at the recalled sensations Lister’s body enabled him to feel.

He let out an appreciative hum as Lister walked past him, the heel of his hand dug into one eye as he yawned. "Whassat?" Lister mumbled as he staggered over to the sink and splashed water on his face to wake up.

Leaning over the sink was dangerous territory #2: now Rimmer had an excellent view of Lister’s arse as it was framed by the tight, thin cloth. He propped his elbow on the table, rested his head on his fist and openly stared. Lister never noticed; Lister was oblivious to everything that happened before noon most days, eleven o’clock if he’d had a good sleep without stomach trouble.

So Rimmer stared, eyes starting at the dip of Lister’s lower back, along the left butt cheek, around the outside to return to the dip, then sliding up and around the right until he was back at the dip.

"We should shag," he heard someone casually mention as his gaze reversed its trip around Lister’s arse.

Lister gurgled and spat out water, much to Rimmer’s amusement. He turned and Rimmer now had an eyeful of the front of the threadbare boxers, showing the darker skin beneath. He let out a quiet sigh. It really was dangerous territory, wasn’t it?

He barely registered Lister’s high-pitched, annoyed voice as it squeaked, "What did you say?"

He blinked slowly as he raised his eyes over the slightly plump stomach to Lister’s chest. "Hm?" As his gaze reached Lister’s face, realization dawned that Lister was fully awake, fully aware and fully horrified. Oh, shit. "What did who say when?" he asked quickly, sitting up and dropping his hands to his lap. His face felt hot. Was he blushing? Could Lister tell he was aroused? He whimpered in the back of his throat and pushed down on his erection, willing it away.

Lister wiped the dripping water from his face. "I swear I heard you say we should shag."

Rimmer forced himself to laugh. "Why would I say a thing like that?" He pushed harder on his damnable penis, ordering it to stand down.

Lister’s eyes got as big as moons and he took a step back. He was pointing and staring at Rimmer’s crotch. "Rimmer, are you sporting wood?"

"Of course not!" he snapped, an edge of desperation in his voice. He didn’t want to think of how desperate he looked.  "Why would watching your arse give me an erection?" He scowled as he pressed the heel of his hand to the base of his erection. Was the damn thing on a spring?

Lister’s hands immediately went to cover his backside. "You were watching me bum?" he shouted, annoyance and anger vying for dominance in his tone.

No, no, _no_. This wasn’t the way he wanted Lister to find out. Not at all. "Would it make you uncomfortable if I said yes?" Rimmer tried, hoping against hope that Lister wouldn’t be offended.

It wasn’t until after Lister had stormed out that his brain helpfully informed him that _touching his erection_ wasn’t the best way to get rid of it.

It didn’t matter now, because he’d discovered another way to rid himself of an unwanted erection: completely smegging up his friendship with Lister and obliterating any hope of moving toward a relationship.

He folded his arms on the table and dropped his head to rest on his forearm. Again. And again. And again. He didn’t even get the satisfaction of a dull thump, so he lay his forehead against the cool metal table and covered his head with his arms. Best to block out the universe before he caused any more damage.

=-=-=-=

Lister wandered the corridors aimlessly as his mind went round in circles: Rimmer was watching him? Rimmer was _turned on_ by him? _Rimmer_? Mr. Anal-retentive, stick-up-the-arse, telegraph pole loving…

Wait a smegging minute.

Lister stopped mid-step and rearranged his thoughts. Had he been wrong about Rimmer’s sexuality all along? He knew of two women that Rimmer had slept with: Yvonne McGruder and the officer from the holoship. A ship Rimmer left even though he was required to have sex twice a day. What man turned down sex twice a day?

Okay, yeah, but what about all the homophobic comments toward Ace, then? Self-delusion? Self-hatred? He shrugged; smeg knows, as Rimmer had self-loathing down to a fine art, a science and a history book.

He chewed on his fingernail as he leaned against the wall. If all that was true and Rimmer had been in denial for years, why was he just noticing it now? Had something changed? He would have noticed Rimmer staring at his bum, wouldn’t he?

Eh, he probably wouldn’t. They’d fallen into a comfortable, friendly banter the past few years, their words no longer intended to hurt the other. Lister had mellowed out even more as he’d gotten older – any more mellow and he’d be dead – which meant he tolerated Rimmer’s idiosyncrasies a lot easier. He was who he was, and he didn’t begrudge Rimmer that. Their friendship was actually a real friendship now, and it wasn’t as though Lister deliberately didn’t pay attention to Rimmer. He was just…there. One of the five constants in his life (Kryten, Cat, _Red Dwarf_ and _Starbug_ the past ten years), he just accepted Rimmer.

Could he accept this new part of Rimmer? He shrugged. Why not? He was an enlightened twenty-third century guy. Defined sexual borders didn’t mean anything to him. So what if Rimmer stared now and then? It wasn’t as if he wanted to return the favor. He chuckled quietly. As if he could find Rimmer attractive.

With a wry grin, he shook his head and pushed himself off of the wall. He needed to square things with Rimmer soon, before the git fell into the old habit of escalating this misunderstanding into a battle of wills.

He was headed back to their quarters when an idea struck. It was perfect. It would take the piss out of Rimmer and let him know that everything was okay between them. Cheered considerably, he started whistling. This was going to be fun.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=  


Rimmer gnawed on his fingernail as he waited for Lister to return. It was stupid to get lost in your fantasies. It was an especially stupid thing for _him_ to get lost in his fantasy, because the object of his fantasy just so happened to be the last human being alive and his only friend. His best friend. His best, only friend. And he’d cocked it up.

Their friendship had survived all these years; surely it could survive this. Couldn’t it? Rimmer turned sharply at the end of his pacing and started back toward the door.

"Heya, Rimmer," Lister called, startling him.

He glanced up and swiftly cataloged Lister’s mood. He didn’t look mad anymore. He was calm. He had… _smeg_. He had the slightest hint of a smirk playing about his lips. Retaliation, they say, is a bitch. So it would seem, was Rimmer. "Lister, I want to apologize for my inappropriate actions," he stated calmly, lowering his hands to his sides. Whatever punishment or horrible stunt Lister had dreamed up to get back at him, he’d take it like a man.

Lister walked into their quarters, a careful strut infused with swagger and confidence. "I’m sure you do, Rimmer," he remarked quietly.

Oh, was he in for it. Rimmer stood straighter instead of cowering like he wanted to. He met Lister’s dark gaze, worry beginning to take root at the mischievous twinkle in their depths.

"I admit to being startled," Lister began as he glided up to Rimmer. "When someone wakes up, it isn’t usually to find out that their friend wants to shag them."

"Now, Lister," he tried to interrupt, but Lister raised a hand to stop him. "You owe me," the Scouser said on a raised voice, "A bit of reciprocation."

Reciprocation? He licked his lips nervously and blinked a few times. What sort of retaliation was that? "Beg pardon?" he asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

Lister couldn’t have been more smug if he were Kryten after a set of trivia questions about androids. "I said," Lister moved closer, standing on his toes to lock gazes with him, "You owe me a _give_ to your _take_."

Rimmer’s leg began jiggling nervously. He really couldn’t deny Lister this, as he had been caught out not just staring, but apparently voicing his fantasy like a true git. But Lister was creative, and his _give_ could be, well, anything. He swallowed and took a deep breath. "You’re absolutely right. I do owe you one."

Lister’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he grinned his chubby-cheeked, know-it-all grin. The one Rimmer hadn’t seen in awhile. "So, first thing’s first." Lister stepped back, giving him some much needed breathing room. "Strip."

_STRIP?_ As in, remove his clothes? His palms started to sweat as his imagination went wild. Lister wanted to see him naked! He was half terrified, half ecstatic. This time, his, "Beg pardon?" was in a higher pitch and cracked at least three times.

The know-it-all grin turned shark-like. "You were staring at me bum in me skivvies. It’s only fair, isn’t it Rimmer, that you strip down to your shorts and give us a show."

Heat flared over Rimmer’s cheeks and upper chest. Of all the sneaky, underhanded… _evil_ things Lister had thought up over the years, this had to be the worst. "You sure you wouldn’t rather put Brill cream in my toothpaste?" he begged faintly.

Lister crossed his arms as he appeared to fight a deeper smile. "Strip."

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a matter of simply removing his clothing. Either Rimmer had to call on Holly’s help – which he was most certainly _not_ going to do – or he had to deactivate his clothes with his remote control. There was definitely nothing sexy about pressing a few buttons, and heat burned Rimmer’s cheeks as he pressed the sequence to remove his outer clothes, leaving him in boxers and undershirt.

He stood as close to proper attention as he could while Lister circled him, eyes raking up and down his form. "You’re looking a little pudgy for a hologram," Lister chided him with a wide grin and a poke to his midsection. "I didn’t know holograms could gain weight."

"It’s part of the programming," Rimmer protested quickly, trying to distract Lister from continuing his inspection. His heavy gaze was affecting Rimmer in very, very bad ways. He heart was racing, his palms were sweaty and he could feel his blood pumping to areas it had no business visiting. Not while Lister was looking at him with that naughty, knowing look. "Holograms appear to age in order to make humans feel better about having them around," he blabbed to distract himself. "Who wants to be around someone who doesn’t age?"

"You remember that old American bloke, Dickey Clark?" Lister commented randomly. "He never aged a day he was on television, something like 50 years." Lister was squinting with the effort of his smiles. "Maybe he was Earth’s first hologram."

A trickle of sweat ran down Rimmer’s temple and he cast his gaze about for something to focus on other than Lister’s cloying presence. "I’m sure I don’t know," he stammered. His gaze focused in on Lister’s lips where a finger tapped against them, something he’d no doubt picked up from Rimmer himself. It gave Lister a thoughtful, devious appearance. Good God, was that how _he_ looked? He probably didn’t make it as sexy as Lister, though. Rimmer wanted to slap himself. What was he _thinking_? Here he was, being humiliated, and he was reflecting on the sexiness of Lister.

Panic rose as Lister tsked and said, "I’ve got it wrong. You weren’t staring at me while I was standing up."

Rimmer’s panic subsided to a dull roar as he realized what Lister was planning. The visual inspection wasn’t the show; _that_ was about to begin. Oh, smeg, was he in for it.

Lister bared his teeth. "Why don’t you wash your face, Rimmer? Wasn’t that what I was doing when I caught you staring?"

Rimmer opened his mouth to protest – then mashed his lips together and spun on his heel. Maybe not being able to watch Lister watch him would be easier. Splashing his face with cold water couldn’t hurt, either. He had to get control of himself. Just because Lister’s gaze was caressing his backside was no reason to…

He scrubbed at his face, gasping as the cold air shocked his system. He gripped the edges of the sink, willing his body under control. He didn’t find this sexy. He didn’t find it erotic. He didn’t find the idea of Lister in control of him exciting. Smegsmegsmegsmeg…

"Arnold."

Lister’s voice was thicker, deeper, as it called his name. Rimmer stood up, water dripping from his eyelashes and chin. He slowly turned around.

Lister had a wondrous, confused expression on his face, as if he’d just discovered something but wasn’t sure about it yet.

Rimmer’s heartbeat sped up. He couldn’t, could he? No. Lister had never shown any interest in him or any other male, ever. He swallowed thickly. Lister had shown plenty of interest, delight and hero worship toward Ace. That had been years and years ago, though. Surely…? Surely, if Lister felt anything then, he would have done something about it back then. And he hadn’t…right?

=-=-=-=-=

Holy smegging hell.

Lister would have sworn he didn’t have a male-loving bone in his body. Sure, he and Petersen had kissed a few times when they were so pissed they’d forgotten who they were with, but nothing ever happened beyond that. Kissing Petersen wasn’t something Lister found particularly note-worthy.

But – Rimmer. Here was a guy who, when alive, drove him bonkers. If he’d been the most handsome man in the universe, Lister doubted he would have given him a second glance, he was just that smeggy. But, he wasn’t that same man anymore.

But…butt. Lister was still marveling at how he could have missed such a fine arse right under his nose. It was pert and tight and had the hint of musculature, yet still enough fleshy bit to grab onto. It was an arse that if it were on a woman, he’d have been drooling over it. But because it hadn’t been on a woman, he was only now watching it with erotic shades on, and smeg it all, his nipples were tingling. He teased Cat about excitement and tingling nipples, but hell. Lister only got them with truly amazing specimens, the pinnacle of what he deemed wanking material, and he was having them over Rimmer’s arse!

His heart was thumping loudly in his chest. This was supposed to be a bit of fun at Rimmer’s expense. A bit of teasing at Rimmer’s crush on him. It wasn’t supposed to lead to soul-searching and revelations, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to lead to tingling nipples and growing arousal.

He needed to look Rimmer in the eye, but he couldn’t get his gaze past Rimmer’s chest. It was safer there, focused on the middle of Rimmer’s chest, ignoring the broad shoulders and not-quite-as-trim-as-it-used-to-be midsection. He looked healthy, not like he did when he was a skinny Second Technician with only his dead-end career to look forward to.

Rimmer was practically glowing with reddened neck and cheeks and … _oh_. Apparently he could look up at Rimmer’s face, despite feeling a flush along his own neck.

"Lister?" He marveled at how much emotion Rimmer put into his name. It was tentative and hopeful, fearful and braced for rejection all at once – and exactly matched the struggling emotions in the hologram’s expression.

Lister was starting to freak out a little. Was this more than a crush? Could Rimmer…could Rimmer be in love with him? Rimmer wasn’t acting like a man caught out. He was acting like a man who could lose everything. His breathing sped up. Was he Rimmer’s…everything?

He swallowed and stepped forward gingerly, as if walking on hot coals. Rimmer’s gaze lasered into his, piercing green intensity nearly knocking him backward. Water droplets were caught in Rimmer’s eyelashes. He watched as Rimmer blinked and a drop caught on his cheek. A hand brushed it away – his hand. When had he moved closer? His hand was now on the back of Rimmer’s neck, pulling him closer. The green eyes lost focus and Lister shivered as lips touched his. Rimmer made to pull back but he tightened his hold on Rimmer’s neck, keeping him in place.

By rights, he should have been the more nervous one, as his revelation was less than ten minutes old, but Rimmer was even more tentative than him. He had a gut feeling that Rimmer had been harboring these feelings for him a long time, so had much more to lose if things went badly. Lister had no intention of letting things go badly.

He pressed forward, opening his mouth to suck gently at Rimmer’s upper lip. He let his fingers rub against Rimmer’s neck, feeling the roughness of skin with the pad of his thumb. He inhaled sharply at Rimmer’s hesitant touch to his waist, letting him know with a flick of his tongue that it was okay, that Rimmer was free to touch.

Next thing he knew, he was completely surrounded by Rimmer: touch, taste, smell and feel. One of Rimmer’s hands swept up his back to caress his neck while the other went south, running along the edge of his waistband. Rimmer’s tongue slipped between his lips, edged along his teeth and coaxed his tongue to play. The faint scent of aftershave teased Lister’s nose as the kiss deepened.

He found himself clinging to Rimmer as the man overwhelmed him: licking, sucking, rubbing and stroking anywhere he could reach. He groaned his pleasure into Rimmer’s mouth as he finally got his hands into Rimmer’s hair, mussing it hopelessly.


	2. The Next Chapter

Rimmer was in ecstasy. Never in his fantasies had he dared to dream about Lister touching him back, kissing him back, _wanting_ him back. He couldn’t get enough of anything: the texture of Lister’s hair, the smoothness of his skin, the plumpness of his lips, the heat of his mouth, even the slightly starchy underwear thanks to Kryten. But it wasn’t enough. Now that he had a taste, he needed more. Hearing Lister’s vocal appreciation only fueled his need.

On a vicious lick to the side of Lister’s neck, he dared voice his wish: "I want to suck you off."

He hugged Lister to him as the other man stumbled, afraid that Lister was about to bolt from the room. "Please, Listy," he rasped as he felt Lister’s rapid-fire heartbeat against his own. His erection was throbbing painfully, shoved up against Lister’s abdomen and about to burst, but he wasn’t looking for his pleasure; only Lister’s.

He heard the faint, amazed, "Shit," and lessened his grip, allowing Lister some breathing room.

"I won’t force you into anything," he explained quickly. "If you want me to stop, I will." It hurt him in ways he couldn’t even identify to utter those words, but he knew he had to. This wasn’t about him; it was about Lister and what Lister wanted. "I want to taste you, I won’t deny that. I want to give you pleasure." Were those words coming from his mouth? Was Arnold J. Rimmer actually saying these incredibly hot things? His ears burned. "But not if you’re not 100% on board with this. This isn’t about me. I won’t touch you again if you tell me to stop. If you want me to…"

Lister’s fierce gaze stopped him cold. "I want you." It was authoritative, shaky but determined, with a thread of desire so thick it made Rimmer’s toes curl. "I’m just not sure how, yet, you know?"

He stared in blind amazement, barely able to comprehend the words coming out of Lister’s mouth. "You-you want me?" he asked faintly. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening to him. Lister wanted _him?_ Lister _wanted_ him?

 _He_ knew how he wanted Lister: every which way imaginable, from the simplest of touches to the deepest connections two humans could share. He’d had years to develop his feelings and had even researched the ways two men could have sex. Rimmer licked the inside of his bottom lip, his insides heating up as Lister’s eyes traced the movement.

"I didn’t just try to hoover out your tonsils because I’m interested in surgery," Lister panted. "When’d you get such an incredible bum?"

The heat pooled in Rimmer’s stomach and started traveling further south as Lister’s words penetrated his jumbled mind. "When did I what now? Did you just compliment my arse?"

Was Lister blushing? Yes, he could just make out the rosy tint to his cheeks. "Yeah," Lister admitted as he crossed his arms. "I didn’t know, you know? I don’t go around checking out me mate’s bums on a regular basis. It’s not like it’s been staring me in the face."

"Yours has," Rimmer admitted, feeling heat flood his face. He elaborated when he saw Lister’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Every day you climb down the ladder, and I get a front view. Then you head to the sink and lean over, so I get the back view. I’ve been double-teemed for years, watching you go up and down the ladder."

Lister’s gaze darted to the neatly made bottom bunk, up the ladder to his own messy bunk, then back down the ladder. He turned a bit redder. "Oh."

A remembered feeling, one full of pain, longing and regret, started bubbling up in Rimmer. The caring, affection and love he felt for Nirvanah was still dulled by his regret at having left her. He’d been stupid, he knew, but he’d never been in love before – if you didn’t count Lise Yates, and he didn’t. No, Nirvanah had been his to love and his to leave. If he didn’t say something now to Lister, he could ruin everything. If he did speak up, he could ruin everything before it really started.

"You should know there’s a very distinct possibly that I may be in love with you and I can’t mess this up because it means too much to me," he spat out before his brain could swirl in more useless circles.

=-=-=-=-=

His heart ached at hearing Rimmer’s confession. The man wasn’t known for bravery, so Lister knew what this was costing him. Rimmer was laying himself bare, something he’d never, ever done in all the years Lister had known him, and the naked terror on his face scared him.

Yes, he, Dave Lister, was scared shitless. He’d been in love numerous times, but all his relationships failed. They all left him to wallow in the pain and rejection of _not enough_. He wasn’t smart enough, or good looking enough, or responsible enough. He already knew that Rimmer didn’t think that. No matter their circumstances, no matter the severity of their fights or escalation of their pranks, he and Rimmer always came back to each other. They remained friends. And the thought again came to him, was he Rimmer’s everything?

That was the rub, wasn’t it? Could he handle the responsibility of Rimmer’s love? His heart thudded in his chest at that word - _love_. Could he have lost it with every woman in his life, only to have it with him all along? He studied the subject of his thoughts, nervously waiting to be rejected for the thousandth time. He couldn’t let Rimmer go on thinking he was about to be rejected again. "I know you do, Rimmer," he stated quietly. "But I don’t want to get your hopes up, because I’m not sure what I feel right now. I’m a little wonky." He gave a lopsided grin and some of the fear drained from Rimmer’s expression. "Give me some time to be sure how I feel about you, okay?"

"Are you quoting bad love songs at me?" Rimmer asked nervously as he wrung his hands together.

He didn’t smile at Rimmer’s flat attempt at a joke; this wasn’t time for levity. "If I am, I don’t mean to. I’m just trying to be honest with you. I like kissing you," he said as heat bloomed on his cheeks. "I like _you_. I just don’t know if…"

He was swept up in another kiss, so startled that he could only grab Rimmer’s shoulders and hold on for the ride of his life. Rimmer tasted of desperation and dread, his mouth too firm, his tongue too forceful. As if he knew this was the last kiss he’d ever experience. None of Lister’s usual tricks worked; Rimmer still had a firm hold of him and didn’t seem to want to let him go. He finally gave Rimmer a hard punch to his lower back which seemed to break through the near-hysterics.

"Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry," Rimmer panted as he backed across their quarters. He raised a shaking hand to wipe at his mouth, surreptitiously wiping away a few stray tears. Lister was too busy catching his breath to stop Rimmer’s stammered, "I didn’t mean…I didn’t want to…I just…I couldn’t hear you say that you don’t love me. If you don’t, please, just don’t ever tell me. Let me live the rest of my life oblivious. I’d rather go on fantasizing than know for sure that you don’t love me."

He was _still_ shaking from the force of Rimmer’s kiss. How could the meeting of mouths, lips and tongues rock him to the core and leave him practically boneless with a longing so intense it made his teeth hurt? "I’m not saying that," he choked out, unable to get his vocal cords to work properly. Nerves were misfiring all along his system, craving the return of the intensity that Rimmer had just poured into him. "I’m only asking for a few days to get my head around this. Okay?" He didn’t honestly know how much longer he could stand in front of Rimmer and not touch him. He had to get out of there, _now_ , before he drowned in Rimmer and lost himself forever.

=-=-=-=-=

Rimmer pressed his hand against his mouth as he watched Lister stumble out the door. He had to respect Lister’s wishes, no matter how desperately he wanted to throw himself at Lister’s feet and beg him to come back.

He told himself he could survive a few days’ uncertainty. He reminded himself that he’d survived countless months of unrequited lust and adoration. He prided himself for years of restraint in watching Lister going up and down the ladder, temptation an arm’s length away.

His self told him to smeg off, as all those instances were negated the second their lips touched, the instant that Arnold’s hands touched Lister’s body like he’d always dreamed. The moment the fantasy turned real, Rimmer had been lost. He whimpered and bit his hand, willing his body under control. He couldn’t let Lister see him like this. He couldn’t let Lister know just how bad he was in a bad way. He had to maintain some self-respect.

He snorted a wry bark of laughter. Wouldn’t that just blow the minds of everyone who ever knew him? He, Arnie J., worrying about his self-respect. It was all Lister’s fault. Lister had made him want to be a better person. Without realizing it, Lister had given him the seeds of self-respect that blossomed and grew. He’d stuck by Rimmer’s side, despite the hundreds of threats to shut him off and the thousands of insults they traded over the years.

Yes, there was a bit of hero worship in there, though Rimmer was embarrassed to admit it, not to mention heaps of respect which he never, _ever_ though he’d say about the ex-slob he roomed with. Him, respect Lister? But the man had earned it ten times over with loyalty and friendship. How could he _not_ love Lister?

He breathed out a heavy sigh and programmed his clothes to reappear. It was going to be hard to concentrate on anything until Lister gave him an answer, but he had to for his sanity. He needed a distraction. "Holly, do you know where Kryten is?" he asked the wall.

Holly’s face appeared on screen, still slightly distorted from the waterlogged systems. Nine years of water damage was hard to clean up. "Heya, Arnold. He’s down on F Deck, checking on the floor reinforcements."

"Thanks," he called distractedly as he left their quarters and headed for the lift. If he recalled correctly, they’d passed a small moon half a day back. Getting off of _Red Dwarf_ and far away from the temptation of Lister’s skin sounded like an excellent plan.

He met up with Kryten ten minutes later when the lift chucked him from his seat. Damn thing still wasn’t working right, even after the dry-out. He’d have to send the skutters back down to work on it.

He straightened his tunic and cleared his throat. "Everything going okay, Kryten?" he asked as smoothly as he could. In his mind, he could still see the spit-shine on Lister’s full lower lip and it was causing him some unpleasant discomfort. He needed to get off the ship, lickety-split.

"Rather well, sir," Kryten answered his query but continued to work. Rimmer idly watched as Kryten fiddled with a handheld scanner for a few minutes more, then finally snapped it shut. "I’m sorry, Mr. Rimmer. I wasn’t aware you needed to speak with me."

He’d drifted into fantasy land while Kryten finished up and now fought the heat burnishing his cheeks. "It’s okay, Kryten. I wanted to let someone know I’ll be taking _Starbug_ to the moon we passed half a day back. I need some planet-leave."

Kryten studied him and Rimmer had a horrible feeling he could see Lister’s fingerprints on his skin and DNA traces on his lips. "I see. Are you sure it’s wise to go by yourself? While scans indicated no life signs, it doesn’t confirm that a form of artificial or previously unknown life couldn’t be present."

He shook his head slightly at Kryten’s incomprehensible babble. "I’ll be fine, Kryten. I’ll take one of the smaller weapons with me in addition to two of your special care packages." After all their excursions to moons and planetoids over the years, Kryten had developed what he called a "special care package," an indestructible box with medical supplies, four blasters, warm clothing, insta-heat packages, tins of food, hydration pills, a crude water filtration system and fire starters. It had saved their bacon on more than one occasion, and Rimmer was grateful for them now.

Kryten still appeared anxious. "If you’re sure, sir. I don’t mind going with you."

He managed a small smile. "I appreciate the offer, Kryten, but I need some time alone." He couldn’t miss Kryten’s obvious sweeping gaze around the vast F Deck, clearly indicating that a ship the size of a small city had plenty of places for him to be alone. He didn’t deny that fact, but he also couldn’t deny that he’d drive Lister away from him, or just plain drive him crazy, if he stayed on the ship. He had to distance himself as much as possible. "Lister needs time to consider something and I don’t want to disturb him," he ventured, not wanting to give the busybody mechanoid too much information.

"And you can’t do that on _Red Dwarf_ ," Kryten prodded, for clarification or confirmation, Rimmer wasn’t sure which.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. "I’d rather stay out of his way, that’s all. I’ll load up _Starbug_ and should be ready to go in a half hour. I’ll contact you when I’ve landed."

Kryten was clearly not reassured, but acquiesced, "Very well, sir." Then he hit low in Rimmer’s gut with a carefully neutral, "Do you want me to tell Mr. Lister where you’ve gone?"

He had trouble swallowing. Did he tell Dave? He had to; else Lister would panic and think he’d lobbed himself out an airlock or something. "Tell him I needed some time to think. He’ll understand." That should satisfy both Kryten and Lister. He was rather proud he thought of it.

He didn’t actually need to pack anything other than the special care packages, though he did toss in some books, freeze-dried snacks and water. He felt odd strapping the small blaster to his thigh, but they’d learned it was the most efficient place to retrieve your weapon if you came under fire. Those ancient American cowboys knew what they were doing.

He let Holly pilot _Starbug_ out of the landing bay, then took over once he was clear of the ship. He wasn’t the best pilot on board _Red Dwarf_ , but he was competent enough.

=-=-=-=-=  
  
Lister had to fight down a wave of panic as Kryten told him of Rimmer’s not-an-actual-holiday plan. "What do you mean, he left?"

"He said he needed time to think and that you would understand," Kryten replied, presumably repeating Rimmer’s words.

Lister closed his eyes to fight back angry tears. He understood, all right. Arnold was giving him the space he asked for, to the extreme. Smegging gimboid always went overboard with enthusiasm, so why should this be any different? He let out a breath through pursed lips. Rimmer was only doing what he’d asked him to do. He had to respect that, even if right now he wanted to rip his head off and stuff it up his incredible arse.

What did it say about him that he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss or the feel of Rimmer pressed against him? Did he want Rimmer in a sexual way? Did he actually want to have actual sex with him? He looked down and quirked an eyebrow. _Well._ His dick was heartily on board with that plan, but what about his heart? Did he love Rimmer, or was it just physical attraction?

His mouth went dry as he pictured Rimmer’s arse as he bent over the sink, shorts stretched thin and tight across the buttocks. No, no he was supposed to be thinking with his _heart_. He forcibly removed the temptation of Rimmer’s bum from his mind and focused instead on his eyes. The eyes, green as moss, darkened with desire. Sparked with anger. Heated with indignation. Focused squarely on him, no one else in the universe but him existed, the only one who mattered. Filled with fear of rejection, alight with hope, shuttered with hesitation. All of that from Lister’s calling of his first name.

The annoyances that used to drive him crazy, he now thought of fondly. The conversations they could have with just a look. The ease at which they could talk about anything, or nothing at all. The teasing laughter that now filled their long trek back to Earth. The pranks they dreamed up to play on Cat or Kryten. The smiles that now came easily to Rimmer’s face, transforming him from straight-laced git to true friend. The hours lying in their separate beds, sharing long-forgotten hopes and dreams until Kryten came in with breakfast.

He sucked in a surprised breath. Lister felt as though he were waking up from a long sleep. Arnold wasn’t just his friend; Arnold was his…everything. He understood Rimmer’s look, now. How brave was Rimmer to have discovered this first, to come to this conclusion first and to act on it first? How could Arnold have kept this enormous feeling bottled up inside and not shout it to the universe?

"Holly, locate _Starbug_ and patch me through," he ordered the wall. He fully intended to get Arnold back as soon as possible. He had something to tell him that couldn’t wait another second. His palms grew sweaty as a jolt of lust burned through him, but his brain slowed down enough to let him think. He couldn’t just blurt it out over the comm channel. This revelation needed the proper setting and mood. You didn’t declare your love for someone over a comm link. You did it over dessert, in a darkened theater or in bed.

Seeing Arnold’s face only made Lister’s churning stomach toss itself about harder. How was he going to get Rimmer back on the ship to tell him he loved him, without telling him he loved him?

Arnold’s cautious voice filtered through the speaker. "Rimmer to _Red Dwarf_. Everything okay?"

Lister’s nervousness transformed to anger in a heartbeat as he glared at the monitor. "No, it’s not. What do you think you’re doing, leaving the bloody ship?" he groused.

Rimmer didn’t look all that great; it was his "brave face forward" attempt and it was just as bad as it ever was. "I didn’t want to pressure you in any way. And as we observed, I can’t be around you without touching you."

His anger dissipated as quickly as it appeared. A shiver ran down Lister’s spine as his body helpfully recalled the firm strokes and light touches. No, no, he couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on getting Rimmer back on the ship. Anger wouldn’t work, but playing into Arnold’s innate fear might. "I don’t want you out there alone. You’re asking for trouble going to an unknown planet. What about GELFs or Simulants? They don’t always show up on scanners. And there’s bound to be loads of stuff we haven’t encountered yet. You’re a sitting duck all by yourself."

‘Thanks very much for the confidence boost," Rimmer snapped, his face a twisted mask of fear, confusion and hurt.

Now he felt like a heel. He didn’t _want_ to hurt Rimmer, he just wanted him back so he could tell the smeghead he loved him. He frowned as he remembered something from the scan of that moon. "Rimmer, there’s barely an atmosphere there."

Rimmer hesitated, then gently reminded him, "I don’t need to breathe."

Despite knowing that, Lister felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. It was easy to tease Rimmer about being a hologram, but the physics and reality of it always caught him off-guard.

"Right," he muttered under his breath. He nearly fell into the chair behind him, hating that Arnold felt the need to go to an airless rock to give him what he’d asked. Rimmer just couldn’t do things by half. He rubbed hand over his face and leaned forward, hoping to emphasize his sincerity. "I didn’t mean for you to leave," he explained. "I can think just fine with you around. You’re not a tart dangling in front of me like a temptress or something, you know. You can stay on one of the other decks, or I’ll take a walkabout. Just come back," he prodded.

He was almost through to Rimmer; he could see it. The cautiously hopeful light was blazing in Rimmer’s eyes, his face starting to lift with optimism, then it all died out and Arnold slumped back in the seat. "It’s better this way. Take your time, Dave. You know where I am. When you’re ready, no matter what your answer is, send me a message and I’ll come back."

Trust Rimmer to ruin a perfectly good seduction plan by being noble and honorable.  Annoyance flared good and proper and Lister narrowed his gaze at the monitor. Resigned to telling the thicky outright, he spat, "You better bleeding well do come back, because if I’m going to tell you that I love you, I’d rather do it when you’re within kissable distance."  

=-=-=-=-=


	3. The Next Chapter

=-=-=-=-=

Rimmer was shaking as he let Holly finish the landing of _Starbug_ back on _Red Dwarf_. Lister’s words haunted his full-throttle run back to the ship, scaring him more than his self-loathing beast ever did and filling him with more hope than he ever dared. Lister said he loved him!

He pushed his hands onto the console to stop their trembling. He levered himself up and took unsteady steps toward the door. Lister was on the other side, he was sure he’d be, waiting for him. What was he going to say? What was appropriate in this situation? He swallowed and nervously smoothed his tunic. Words didn’t come naturally to him, and these feelings sure as smeg didn’t, either. Maybe it would be best to let Lister speak first. That would give him something to respond to. Yes, that was best.

His mouth went dry as he stepped out of _Starbug_ and saw Dave at the far end of the landing bay, jogging toward him at a good clip. He felt his feet touch down on solid deck plating, but his heart felt as if it were still flying in the vastness of space.

Dave was slightly out of breath as he came to a halt about a foot from Rimmer. "Hi," he said shyly.

Nerves caused his leg to spasm. That was it – a normal greeting? Well, what did he expect, harps and flowers? Unable to hide his disappointment, Rimmer replied, "Hi."

Lister reached out and took his hand, sending sparks of pleasure dancing along his arm. "I had Kryten make us up something. It’s just in the hallway." He tugged and Rimmer followed, unsure exactly what he was being led into. What would Kryten need to ‘make up’? His breath quickened. Surely not a bed? Dave wasn’t expecting him to perform on cue, was he? That kind of pressure could really put a guy off.

His foolish notions vaporized as the door slid open, revealing a small table set with a cloth, actual dishes with silverware and two fluted glasses. Some rehydrated fruit stood in two bowls next to a bottle chilling in an ice bucket. Rimmer flushed and shot Dave a coy look. "You planning to seduce me?" he asked, his voice as deep as he could remember hearing.

Lister turned to him with raised eyebrows. "And here I thought it was you doing the seducing," he teased lightly.

Rimmer inhaled sharply as Dave brushed his lips in a kiss. The light touch heightened all his senses, sending him into overload. He twisted their hands and pulled Dave to him, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. He was mindful of the pressure he exerted, not wanting to repeat his desperate kiss of before. This was leisurely as he took his time learning the taste and texture of one David Lister.

Slight moans reached his ears, encouraging in their enthusiasm, though he didn’t know if he was making them or Lister. It didn’t really matter, did it? He could tell Dave was enjoying this, the way his fingers flexed against his neck, the sharp tug to draw him closer until their bodies were pressed together. The flick of a tongue against the roof of his mouth. A long lick up the side of his neck to nip at his earlobe. He groaned into Lister’s neck, then sucked on a bit of flesh, worrying it between his teeth.

A snuffled laugh breathed against his neck. "If you’re hungry, we can eat," Lister muttered into his skin.

"Rather have you," Arnold whispered into an ear before flicking the lobe with his tongue and catching it between his teeth.

A very soft, nervous giggle had him pulling back to study Lister. The Scouser was flushed and avoided his gaze. "Dave? Everything okay?"

He watched hungrily as Lister’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Yeah, man. Just…we’re straying into unfamiliar territory."

Unfamiliar…? Oh. He’d assumed with all of Lister’s experience, he’d have slept with at least one man before. He’d been counting on it, actually. He’d researched and imagined, but had no practical sexual experience aside from Yvonne and Nirvanah. "So, you’ve never done anything with a man before?" he asked, now the nervous one.

"Just kissing Petersen," Lister admitted with a dismissive shrug. "Nothing beyond that."

"You’re one up on me," he admitted with a blush, "You’re the first man I’ve kissed."

Lister’s eyes softened as he broke into a sad smile. "Rimmer. It’s not that I don’t like kissing you – I do. I’m just a bit nervous about…the rest."

Ah. _The Rest._ It was capitalized in his head, flashing neon signs and arrows pointing to it. Rimmer felt heat on his cheeks and ears as he braced himself to admit what he’d done. "Yes, well. I’m not a swarthy space hero or prancing Lothario, but I’ve done…research."

"Research?" Lister sounded both intrigued and horrified. 

"I didn’t want to look like a bumbling, virginal idiot," he snapped, harsher than he intended. He stared hard at the deck plating as he muttered, "I’d hoped…someday, maybe, you’d notice me. Call it wishful thinking." He shrugged helplessly.

"Come here, you smeghead," Dave said fondly, tugging on his hand. "You can stop your wishing because I’m right here. We’ll take it slow, yeah? We’ll learn together."

Lister’s face was so earnest despite the lingering fear Rimmer could see in the depths of his eyes, that most of his own nervousness and shame fell away. "That sounds nice." On a whim, he leaned forward and kissed Lister’s nose. "Gimboid."

Dave play-slapped his arm and muttered, "Git."

His eyes closed as he felt Dave’s hand smooth down his side, sending shivers throughout his body. The breath caught in his chest as Dave’s fingers traced the straps holding the blaster to his thigh, the touches more to the thigh than the leather.

"That’s a rather sexy accessory you’ve got there, Mr. Rimmer," Dave purred in his ear. "Do you know how to use it?"

Desire coiled up his spine and he stammered, "More or less." Smeg, one touch and he was ready to go off. Did Dave know what he was doing to him? Apparently so, as he caught the twinkle in Lister’s eyes before his hand slipped around to cup his arse.

He jumped at the firm touch, steadying himself by wrapping his arms around Lister and yanking him close. "You’re playing with fire," he warned thickly as he pressed his hips against Lister’s stomach.

Startled fear blazed quickly in Lister’s gaze, then burned down to heated desire. Dave’s other hand slid around to squeeze his other cheek firmly and he said, "Yeah?" in a daring tone.

Despite what others sometimes thought of him, Arnold was only human. With a growl, he grabbed Lister’s arse with both hands, lifted him off the floor and propelled Dave backward into the wall. He felt Lister’s feet hit his arse as the Scouser wrapped his legs around him. Their groins level now, Arnold could feel the swelling length of Dave’s cock in his trousers and groaned softly. His own was tightly encased, desperate to be free and stroked but it was impossible with both his hands holding up Lister, and Dave holding onto his shoulders for balance. "You ready to do this?" Rimmer panted.

Lister dove for Arnold’s mouth, bending with flexibility that sent Arnold’s imagination into high gear. Taking that as a ‘yes’, Arnold began to roll his hips up into Lister, never mind that they were both fully clothed. It was awkward and sweat broke out on Rimmer’s forehead with the strain. Just when he thought it wasn’t going to work, Lister let out a high-pitched whine and threw his head back, exposing his throat. Like a starving man, Rimmer sucked and nipped at the stretched skin as his hips thrust upward, finally settling into a rhythm that worked for both of them. Smeg, the flex of muscles under his hands, the power they had – Arnold felt a jolt of lust surge through him.

Arnold’s orgasm came upon him so swiftly, he sucked in a pained gasp as the shockwaves of pleasure ripped through him. He knew he was pressing Dave uncomfortably into the wall, but he had no control over his tensed muscles as ecstasy ebbed and flowed through every last nerve ending.

He winced as he felt a tug to his hair. "Come on, man," Lister panted through gritted teeth. "Come _on_."

Rimmer was ready to collapse, but he couldn’t deny Dave anything. He lowered Dave to the floor, then sealed his lips over Lister’s mouth in a deep kiss. He fumbled at Dave’s fasteners, quickly gave up and just shoved his hand down the front of Lister’s pants. A low, throaty groan reverberated from Lister as Arnold wrapped his hand around the remembered cock and began to stroke.

Dave’s hand clamped around the back of his neck, holding him in place while Lister made himself at home inside his mouth. Barely able to stand, Rimmer slapped his free hand to the wall near Dave’s head, holding himself upright as he continued to work Lister’s cock. It was hard to get his thumb up over the head, but he ignored the cramping in his wrist as he twisted around the odd angle. The slick slide of an agile tongue against his threatened to distract him, but he was determined to get Dave off.

Lister clutched at his shoulder and nipped Rimmer’s lower lip, then soothed it with his tongue. "Love ya," Dave breathed just before his mouth opened on a silent scream and Rimmer felt the pulsations of Lister’s orgasm in his palm.

Arnold absently continued to work Dave’s erection until it was spent, so enraptured with the gorgeous sight before him: Lister, sweat sliding down his face, features etched in exquisite pleasure. It wasn’t until a pained wince marred Lister’s expression that Arnold let him go and removed his hand from the damp, sticky mess.

Then, and only then, did he allow his mind to turn to what Dave had uttered. He was unable to stifle the half-sob that escaped his lips at the Io-shattering revelation of hearing those words. He leaned heavily against the wall, unable to stop his own body’s trembling, though it had little to do with his body’s release. No, it had everything to do with the realization that he was loved.

=-=-=-=-=

Lister was barely able to stand up, his legs were shaking so bad. His muscles were useless rubber bands in the wake of that orgasm. Smegging hell, it’d never been that intense. His arse was sore, no doubt from Rimmer’s grip to hold him upright – and how strong was the man to be able to do that? He didn’t think he’d like being man-handled, but somehow, knowing how much Rimmer loved him, seeing how much the man wanted to please him, made it okay.

What was _not_ okay was the sticky mess he’d made in his pants. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d come in his pants – had he ever? Not even when he was twelve and staring at his first naked woman in the flesh. He experienced a full body shiver as he heard a soft sob and turned toward it. Rimmer had his hands on the wall, his head bowed between them and his entire body was shaking.

"Arn?" he called and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. "You okay?" 

Rimmer coughed and appeared to wipe his face before he turned. He looked terrible – face blotchy and wet with tear tracks. "Kiss me again," he gently begged. "I need to know you’re really real. That you really meant it."

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Lister stepped closer until he could wrap his arms around Rimmer’s middle and press their bodies together. He tilted his head back and brushed his lips against Rimmer’s. "I meant it," he assured Arnold.

He watched hesitation and fear flit across Rimmer’s features before he seemed to come to a decision. "I’ve never said these words to another living soul. I loved Nirvanah but I was too scared to tell her, then she was gone and I lost my chance. I don’t want to lose another chance at happiness, Dave. I love you."

Hearing those words, feeling the emotion pouring out of Rimmer’s gaze, set Lister’s heart tripping madly. "I think that may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me," he choked out. "I don’t know how I didn’t know it before, but I love you."

That rare smile of Rimmer’s transformed his whole facial structure, softening his features and crinkling his eyes. Before Lister could say another word, his mouth was captured in another hooveresque demonstration to which he happily succumbed.

"C’mon," he murmured as he licked from Rimmer’s chin to the divot in his upper lip. "Time to find a shower."

Some of the blissed-out look on Arnold’s face drained away. "Shower?" he queried hesitantly.

"I’m not walking all the way back to our quarters in this," Lister groused good-naturedly as he wriggled his hips. "I’m disgusting."

Arnold wrinkled his nose and shifted his hips. "Yes, it is rather…sticky."

Lister wrapped his arms around Arnold and wagged his eyebrows. "So, let’s conserve water and shower together."

Rimmer’s voice rose about ten octaves and Lister swore he saw panic flit across his features. "Shower together?"

"Hey," he called gently, cupping Arnold’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his mouth. "Don’t you want to see me naked?"

He felt Rimmer’s hips pump once in enthusiasm at that suggestion as Arnold groaned, "God, yes."

Lister fluttered his eyelashes like the women in old time movies and started to walk backwards out of Rimmer’s reach. "If you want to see this specimen of male perfection in the buff, nude, starkers…" he grinned as Arnold followed like a dog on a leash, with drool and panting to complete the picture. He glanced around until he spotted crew quarters down one corridor and headed that way.

Arnold grasped him around the waist and licked his way into his mouth. Lister fumbled at his side for the door release, eventually hitting it and opening the door beside him. Not losing suction with Rimmer’s mouth, he stumbled their way into the quarters.

=-=-=-=-=

Arnold felt as though there were a line from Lister’s mouth straight to his penis, as with each lick and nibble, it swelled to greater torment. He finally had to break away from Dave’s mouth with a gasped, "Wait, wait," as he tried to get his errant erection under control.

"What for, Rimmer? We’re both disgusting," Dave whined, as if Rimmer needed the reminder. He was still glowing from their frottage and shared declarations of love that he’d bet he was visible from three galaxies away.

It was sheer madness to stall for time when all he wanted to do was strip Lister naked and lick every inch of him, but if he didn’t rein in his desire, he would go off again. He swallowed thickly and rasped, "You promised me naked perfection."

His breath caught as Lister adjusted his trousers away from his skin. He barely heard the smug, "So I did."

Was Lister being deliberately thick or trying to kill him? His embarrassment of never having showered with anyone before battled with his overwhelming desire to see Dave naked and wet. Combined with his pressing erection, he was getting highly annoyed. "So," he narrowed his eyes and waved impatiently, "Aren’t you going to get naked?"

Dave’s chuckle and sparkling eyes grated on Rimmer’s nerves. "Make me."

Arnold sucked in a breath as alarms went off in his head, warnings of impeding orgasm or spontaneous combustion, he couldn’t be sure. _Make him?_ Oh, he’d make Lister pay for that. He stalked toward Dave with a feral grin.

Dave tilted his head back to stare into his eyes, a challenge and a dare shining from the dark depths. With a cocked eyebrow, Arnold removed Dave’s hat and made a show of tossing it toward the table. He heard objects hitting the floor, but didn’t care. Next, he took care to slide Lister’s jacket off with deliberate slowness, stroking down his arms as it went.

Lister’s grin ticked up another notch as Rimmer went a little faster removing the outer shirt. The grin faded as Arnold stepped closer, breathing heavily as he pushed down the last button-down shirt, leaving only Lister’s ratty t-shirt. His hands shook as he grasped the tattered hem and pulled the t-shirt over Dave’s head. His gaze was riveted by the sparse hairs that dotted the lean chest. Before he knew it, his head was bent to lick and suck at the exposed skin, then he twirled his tongue around the darker nipples.

Dave let out a squeak and tugged at his hair. "Warn me before you go and do that," he hissed.

Smeg, what did he do? He was nearly on his knees, so he went slightly off-balance as he tilted his head back to look up at Lister’s face. Dave didn’t look upset or angry, just a bit surprised. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked in a tiny voice.

"Smeg, no," Dave assured him with a flash of a smile. "I’m just really sensitive after…you know. They’re like overcharged batteries or something."

He struggled to keep a wicked grin from spreading across his features as he filed that tidbit away for future adventures. He knelt and swiftly untied Lister’s boot laces, then made short work of his pants fasteners. He stood back up, kissing Lister’s nose in apology. "For the mess I made of you."

"You could make up by scrubbing me back." Dave’s wheedling ended on a sharp inhale as Rimmer slid his hands between Lister’s skin and clothes, then worked the sodden underwear and pants down to bunch at his boots. The motion took Arnold’s face very near to Lister’s groin, which was a sticky, disgusting mess…despite that he licked his lips at the sight of Dave’s cock. The smell of sex went straight to his own cock, which twitched painfully and demanded a repeat performance.

"Shower, now," he croaked, turning Lister by his hips. Bad move; now he had an up-close and personal view of Dave’s arse and he had to swallow a few times to keep the drool at bay. Another full-body shudder wracked his body as Lister crouched down and worked his feet out of his boots and pants, leaving him completely, wonderfully naked.

"Get in that shower before I throw you to the ground and suck you until you come again," he cried hoarsely as he sat back on his hands, trying to get away from the temptation. It should have disgusted him, wanting to lick Dave clean, but his body was so turned on by the scent, the visual feast, of Lister naked that he didn’t give a smeg for propriety or civility. His base instincts were in charge, wanting to _take_ and _mate_ and _mark_.

He didn’t want to know how he looked, eyes wild with feral hunger or insane with lust. It must have been something equally bad or worse, as Lister’s eyes widened and he dashed into the shower without a word.

Rimmer remained on the floor, breathing heavily as his hand snaked into his trousers and he started to jerk off. He didn’t suffer from post-sex sensitivity, as proved by his night with Nirvanah. They’d made love for hours, Nirvanah barely able to catch her breath as he was up and running, so to speak, with minimal downtime. No matter how many times he pulsed inside her, no matter how often she wrapped her hand around his cock, it felt as good as the first.

Now was no different. With the visual stimulation, the scent and sound of Dave coming still fresh in his mind, his body was ready to come again. He whimpered as he imagined Dave’s lips stretched around his cock, the dark head bobbing between his thighs, his back arched as Arnold pounded into that sweet arse…

With a choked cry, he threw his head back and came, despite his too-strong grip on his erection. He lay supine on the floor, trying to catch his breath as pleasure sang through his veins.


	4. The Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wet Lister. Wet Rimmer. Enjoy!

=-=-=-=-=

Dave smacked his forehead on the shower wall as he heard Arnold cry out, even over the running water. There was no doubt in his mind that Rimmer had just tossed off. He could easily picture the mix of joy and astonishment in Arnold’s expression, now that he’d seen the wonder first-hand.

Smeg, he hadn’t fully recovered from round one, and here Rimmer was, polishing off round two. Was Rimmer a masochist or a sex machine that just kept going? Hey, now there’s a thought. He hissed as his dick gave an interested twitch.

The water continued to pound down on him, setting his nerves on edge. Rimmer had looked feral, like a predator eyeing his prey, before ordering him into the shower and away from him. What had he awoken in the hologram? He shivered, and not just from the tepid water.

He turned sharply as he heard his name being called timidly. Arnold stood naked in the doorway, just outside the spray of water. "Is it okay if I come in?"

Lister swept his gaze over Rimmer’s body, taking in the drying and clumpy mess that he’d already washed off of himself. Rimmer looked pathetic, with his forlorn expression and downcast eyes. He held out his hand and urged, "Come here, Rimmer."

Cautiously, Arnold took his hand and stepped into the shower, keeping his eyes averted.

Lister squeezed his hand. "You can look at me, you know. I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know how it can be, finally getting what you’ve been dreaming about." He smiled gently as Arnold looked up at him. "You go a little nuts."

That minx-like tongue peeked out to swipe along Arnold’s lips. "It’s overwhelming," he admitted shyly. Lister saw, out of the corner of his eye, a hand hesitantly reach up to touch his hair. "It’s like I’m not sure what’s allowed and what isn’t."

"I’ll let you know what isn’t," Dave assured him, then pushed him gently under the spray. "Right now, you can wash my back, and I’ll wash yours."

He heard the muttered, "Right," as he turned around, trying not to jump at the first touch of hands to his back. His eyes closed as Rimmer made sweeping arcs across his shoulders and upper back, feeling the lather slide tantalizing down his wet skin. His breathing deepened as Rimmer’s hands swept lower, finally caressing over his buttocks and hips. He held his breath as Rimmer pressed up against his back, _another_ erection sliding in the crack of his arse. Smegging hell, Rimmer _was_ a sex machine! A shaky moan swept past his ear as Arnold’s hands slid around to his chest, rubbing low on his abdomen.

He was torn between wanting to shove Rimmer away and staying where he was and seeing where it led. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, the water and soap made everything slick, but it was too new, too brash. "Not just yet," he murmured and turned around, pressing an apologetic kiss to Arnold’s lips. "My turn to do you."

For a split second, he was afraid Arnold misunderstood him, but then Rimmer turned around and presented his back. Gathering soapy lather in his hands, he started at Rimmer’s shoulders, feeling the tension vibrating beneath his skin. "Smeg, Rimmer, you’re tenser than a virgin on prom night," he muttered.

"Never went to prom," Arnold answered shakily.

He chortled under his breath and rubbed his thumbs along Rimmer’s muscles. "Remind me to give you a massage some time. I’ve been told I have magic hands."

"I don’t doubt it," came the wistful reply, one that Dave was sure he wasn’t supposed to have heard.

Biting back a smile, he lathered up Rimmer’s shoulders and upper back, then trailed soap along his spine until it pooled at the base, just at the upper curve of his arse. He was surprised to note Rimmer didn’t have a tan line; most women he’d dated had two distinct tones from their bathing suits. Rimmer was pale from top to bottom, unmarred by two-tone flesh. He either never went to a tanning bed or – Lister fumbled the soap – he tanned starkers. He shook his head at the thought. Nah, not Rimmer. He was too straight-laced to muck about in the nude.

Even as he thought it, he had to mentally slap himself as he was currently lathering up a very nude Arnold Rimmer who had not five minutes ago been mucking about. As he slipped his hands along Rimmer’s waist and hips, he asked, "So, why no tan lines?" to distract himself from the paths being taken by the water and suds.

It took a moment for Rimmer to answer. "I blaze like a roasted pepper. Not enough sunlight reached Io, so we made do with tanning beds, only I wasn’t allowed a turn. My grades weren’t good enough to warrant rewards. I – ah – never bothered on the ship."

He hummed in answer, concentrating instead on how Rimmer’s flesh felt under his hands. He stepped closer but made sure not to bump his hips into Rimmer’s, while sliding his hands around Rimmer’s waist. He felt the quick intake of breath, but didn’t hear an objection as his hands started to rub at Arnold’s abdomen. "This okay?" he muttered into the arm his cheek was pressed against.

"Fine," came the high-pitched squeak of an answer. One of Rimmer’s hands shot out to press against the shower wall, the knuckles immediately turning white with the exertion.

"Hey, easy guy," Lister murmured as he covered that hand with one of his own. It hit him, then, that those long, slender fingers had wrapped perfectly around his cock, had stroked him just right and had left him shaking and half-blind in delirious bliss. His front was now plastered to Rimmer’s back, his cock nestled between Rimmer’s buttcheeks and he stifled a gasp as pure _want_ sped down his spine.

Rimmer lowered his head to speak to the floor and Dave had to strain to hear him. "It’s easier for you. You know how to deal with these feelings. It’s all new to me. I don’t know how I should feel or what to do, how I’m supposed to act or what I’m supposed to say." A very sob-like sound echoed in the small space. "I want you, Dave. I want you so smegging much but I don’t know _how_."

Tears sprung to his eyes and he laid his cheek on Rimmer’s shoulder, staring at his hand covering Rimmer’s. "This is new to me, too. Every time I’ve been in love, it’s felt different. There’s a rush of first feelings when all you want to do is touch the other person, then a mellowing out when you can stand to be apart and not want to gnaw your own arm off because they’re not around." He swallowed. "But this is different. We don’t get the excitement of learning all about the other person, because we already know each other. We don’t have to go through the annoyed stage where we learn about each other’s bad habits, because we’ve already lived together. So maybe all that’s left for us is the good stuff."

Rimmer extracted himself from his arms and turned to face him. Lister would have bet his guitar that tear tracks were mingled with the water cascading down Rimmer’s face. "You won’t hate me?"

"I’ve already done hated you, Rimmer," Dave teased him gently. "We’ve swung the other way around to loving you."

His face was cupped and tilted up, then Rimmer placed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Thank you."

=-=-=-=-=

It was well on four months before everyone was comfortable with the relationship dynamic change on board. Cat had avoided him and Lister for weeks, claiming that their combined smell made him nauseated. Kryten huffed for a week or two, but when he discovered it meant more laundry, as Arnold refused to sleep on the wet spot – or indeed any bed that had any wet spot – he was fully supportive of what he deemed their "love nest."

Dave was so congenial, so easy-going, that very little about their relationship unnerved him. It was Arnold’s neuroses that always came up, his nerves that needed calming, his uncertainty that needed assurance.

One thing that Arnold had over Dave was his research. Whereas Dave knew how to make love to a woman 87 different ways, it was Arnold who got to suggest possible techniques, positions or locations for their new venture. He made his suggestions with a blush on his cheeks, which Dave always found adorable, until Arnold pinned him to the bed and made him forget his name with his tongue.

Late one afternoon, as Dave worked his way down Arnold’s chest in a series of love bites, Arnold tugged at a dread and murmured, "Make love to me."  
Dave released the bit of flesh he’d been sucking on and eyed him. "What’cha think I’ve been doing here; me laundry?"

Embarrassment flushed his face and neck. He should have kept his mouth shut. It was his deep-down secret fantasy, the one position he’d never suggested, though by its absence he thought it was blaringly obvious. It scared him, yet thrilled him at the same time. A way for him and Dave to be as physically connected as two people could be. "No, it’s not that," he tried to explain. "It’s fantastic. You’re fantastic. I just want…" This was stupid; Dave would never laugh at him about something so serious; why was he being a nervous ninny? "More than that."

Dave narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, looking like a confused puppy. "More?"

Had Dave always been this thick but he was too sexually aroused to notice? Exasperated, he shouted, "I want you to bugger me, you goit. Stick that thick salami up my arse and ride me like a pony." His nostrils flared in annoyance even while heat burned his cheeks.

Dave blinked, calm as you like, then a sly grin stretched his mouth wide. "What? Why didn’t you say so before?"

He raged incoherently at Dave’s nonchalance. "I hate you, you know that? I truly, truly hate you, you bloody smegger. You know how hard it is for me to ahhhh…" his eyes rolled to the back of his head as Lister’s mouth engulfed his cock and swallowed. He gasped for breath as Lister crawled up his body, then planted a quick kiss to his lips.

Dave’s eyes were shining as he stated, "If it’s buggering you want, buggering you’ll get. What do we need?"

Despite his embarrassment, and continued brain-rot at Lister’s incredible ability to leave him speechless, he grasped Dave’s head between his hands and kissed him soundly. "I love you, you smegger. Grab the Astroglide."

Anticipation coiled low in his gut as Arnold mentally flipped through the positions available to them. He watched with hooded eyes as Dave ransacked the bottom drawer, bent over and arse jiggling slightly with his frantic movements. He desperately wanted to see Dave’s face as he was penetrated, but it would be too difficult to hide any discomfort he might feel. He rolled over onto his stomach, hissing as his semi-erect cock was pushed into the mattress.

"Don’t you get started without me," Dave panted as he bounced back to the bed, flicking the tube beside Rimmer. A shudder rippled through Arnold as he felt Dave’s breath on his ear, then the whispered, "I want to enjoy this, too."

His eyes closed as he felt his nerve endings begin to tingle with anticipation. "I have to ask – did you ever do this with a woman?"

He shuddered as Lister’s hand stroked down his spine. "Yeah, a few. How different is it?"

At least with Arnold’s research, Dave had learned that not everything he’d done with women translated 1:1 with what he could do with Rimmer. Arnold was trusted for his knowledge now, and that gave him a warm glow that had nothing to do with sexual stimulation. "A bit." He began to murmur instructions on how to apply the lubrication, how much to use, where to aim and how to stretch him properly. For his part, he concentrated on relaxation, knowing that was the second most important technique, the first being plenty of lubrication.

He hitched himself to his knees and spread his legs, feeling a bit ridiculous, but Dave’s hands and mouth along his back set about distracting him. Nips followed by soothing tongue. Firm pressure faded to feather-light touches. Moist kisses trailed along his spine and skin sucked deep into a worshipping mouth.

He started to whine as Dave placed sucking kisses to his left buttcheek, something Lister knew drove him insane. "Easy, guy," Dave murmured as he shifted to give its twin the same treatment.

"God, Lister, just bugger me already," he begged shamelessly, knowing that Dave wouldn’t and knowing he wasn’t ready, but the need was spiking in him.

He cried out as Dave’s hand wrapped firmly around his cock and started to stroke, the distraction allowing Dave to slip the tip of a finger inside his arse. "More," he pleaded as he gripped and twisted the sheets, but Dave had his own timetable, apparently. No matter how much Arnold begged, threatened or bargained, Dave moved with agonizing slowness, waiting until Arnold was babbling incoherently before pushing to the next level.

He’d already come once, right as Dave had twisted three fingers deep and pressed against his prostate. It was lightning, explosions and suns dying, all rolled into one incredible sensation.

"Fuck me," he begged on an exhale, unable to gather enough strength to shout anymore. "Please, just fuuhh--" Words died in his throat as he felt the full length of Dave’s cock press into him. It felt like an eternity of movement, stretching through time and space as the sensations kept building to higher peaks.

"Won’t. Last," Dave panted.

He could only shake his head in agreement. His brain couldn’t remember how to speak. He rocked backwards and hissed as he took Dave deeper, unable to believe it was possible, then Dave started moving in increments, pressing deeper, angling downward and twisting his hips.

Arnold was surely dying, because nothing could feel this good. No one could survive anything that felt this good. Then Dave hit his prostrate again and he came without being touched, every muscle trembling with the effort of keeping him upright.

"Smeg," was breathed above him, his hips gripped tightly, and Dave started really moving, driving himself to a climax Arnold wasn’t sure he was ready for. How had the man not come before now?

His aborted screams came out as choked gasps as he felt the tension building in him a third time. Dave’s soft grunts coincided with the slaps of skin on skin, Arnold’s body being rocked to Dave’s thrusts.

Dave’s hands started to slip off his slick skin and he bent down, reaching out to cover Arnold’s hands with his own. "Love…" Dave panted in his ear and came with a deep groan that reverberated in Arnold’s bones.

Dave’s words and orgasm triggered a mild one for Arnold, utterly spending his body and he collapsed to the bed, Lister sprawling out over him in a useless heap.

Their labored breathing was the only sound for awhile, then Arnold found the strength to mutter, "God on Io, how I love you." He knew Dave would be nearly asleep, he had to be by this point, but he heard the muffled, "Love, too," pressed into the skin of his shoulder. 

"How," he coughed and tried again, "How did you manage not to come? I feel like I’ve been worked nine times over by the entire Zero Gee Football League."

"Heh," Dave breathed and slipped off of him, allowing Arnold to twisted around to lay on his side, facing his lover.

Dave was prone on the bed, limbs lying wherever they fell. Dave’s eyes were closed, but he managed a tired smile. "Cock ring. Only way I could’a done it. Sexy as smeg."

"Cheating bastard," he murmured without heat. He wriggled a bit, trying to get comfortable, when a dull ache, not unpleasant, made itself known deep within him. For the first time, he didn’t care about the wet spot, which was more or less the entire bed at that point. He was too satiated, too full of love, to mind. He threw an arm over Lister’s back and followed Dave into sleep.

The End


End file.
